We're Coming Home Again & Just a Little Insight
by Ferix79
Summary: A sequel to my fic "New York, Oh New York". Its the 10th annversary of 9/11, and this is the end to New York and New Jersey's stories. All state-tans belong to the State Tan Project, Quebec belongs to the IamMatthewian Project, both on dA.


To New York, this Sunday was just like any other Sunday. It just so happened to be the 10th Anniversary of September 11th.

In past years, he would have woken up with tears already streaming down his face, because the pure emotion coming from his people was just too much to handle mentally, sometimes. In any year after 2004 he would have woken up with Quebec next to him, and then would have rolled over and wrapped an arm around the Canadian, waking him, and the two would have stayed in bed for as long as New York needed to, talking about anything while Quebec wiped away the many tears that fell.

And today he did wake up next to Quebec, but instead of feeling tears on his cheeks he just felt…calm. Today was any other day of the year, and today was the anniversary of the attacks, but it felt different. He had no idea what time it was, but there were no racing thoughts in his head, no flashbacks of fire and airplanes, and the world was a pleasant silence. New York rolled over and wrapped an arm around his boyfriend, like he always did, and pulled him in for a hug. The province slowly woke, and looked into New York's eyes with concern.

"Are you alright?"

New York blinked back at him, the rest of the bedroom was blurry, as he did not have his glasses on, but Quebec's face was close enough to his to be clear.

"Yeah," he said, leaning in to kiss the province good morning and then snuggling back into his pillow, "I feel good."

* * *

><p>They arrived at Ground Zero—no, it was the memorial now—at 6:30 in the morning. The families of all those that died were the only ones who would be able to see the memorial today, but he, Quebec, Massachusetts, and America were promised some time all on their own if they arrived early. New Jersey would have been there, but he was busy that morning with his own memorial in Jersey City.<p>

The state and province met up with America and Massachusetts right outside the entrance, and New York greeted them with a small smile. America smiled, too, though his was a bit sad, and pulled New York into a tight hug. The state—half taken by surprise, but half not—returned the gesture, reassuring his father that he was fine, and had been fine, and would be fine. After they separated Massachusetts took her turn, reaching her arms up around New York's neck and pressing herself against his body.

"Mikey, you've come so far. I can't…I can't even begin to tell you how happy I am about you…about everything." She mumbled, burying her head in the crook of his neck. New York hummed, and the two remained that way for a few more moments before separating. Massachusetts had already begun to dab at the corner of her eye.

"Well," America began, sweeping his arm in the direction of the memorial, "Shall we go in?" Nearby, a security guard—probably not a normal one, probably one who was in the know—stood, patiently waiting to allow them in. New York nodded to his father, and the four proceeded inside.

The cascading waterfalls and freshly planted trees of the memorial were honestly some of the most beautiful things New York had ever seen, but even more beautiful were all the names engraved into the marble that bordered the reflecting pools. After entering none of the four said anything for quite some time, only slowly walking around both pools, observing the names, the trees, the ever flowing water, and the sun rising to light up the sky. Eventually, they came back around to nearly where they had started, and New York walked forward and placed a hand on the smooth marble.

America felt a sense of déjà vu for a second, thinking back over nine years to when New York had first seen Ground Zero. His reaction was the total opposite of back then, though; this time, there was no collapsing to the floor and sobbing.

The three around New York heard the state take in a breath, and then, slowly, with no sense of haste or urgency, he lowered himself down to his knees in front of the memorial and spread his arms out across the marble, followed by lying his chest and cheek down against the sloped surface. He almost looked as if he was trying to hug the great pool. The other three were confused by his actions, but didn't question them, nonetheless.

"I like this place," New York said a moment later, "I can…feel everything like it was still here, and I feel like everyone is still here, even though it's all long gone…" He trailed off, but with a note of happiness in his voice. He supposed he looked slightly ridiculous, rested against the marble, but that didn't matter, now. "I think this was a great idea, even if it took so long."

Quebec, America, and Massachusetts didn't know what to say, other than that they agreed, so they didn't say anything. America walked up next to his son, but didn't touch him, feeling that he would disturb the man from his state of happiness, and placed a hand on the marble, observing several of the names engraved around that particular area. Quebec and Massachusetts were quick to follow, stepping up next to New York and America, respectively, and just observing the peace.

After ten years, nothing needed to be said anymore.

* * *

><p>By the time the four were done observing the memorial it was nearly 7, and many families anxiously waited outside for their turn to pay their respects. The dedication ceremony itself didn't start until 8, so the four ate breakfast together at a small café.<p>

After that the morning seemed to just fly by, and soon they were standing near the stage, waiting for someone to come up and speak. The President ascended the stairs, but before he spoke the national anthem was sung by a boys and girls choir, and the flag from the North Tower—the "9/11" flag, they called it now—was unfolded for the song. Afterwards the President said a few words, and several others followed him. It seemed like clockwork to New York now, since he had been to so many of these ceremonies. Listen, clap, listen, clap. It was not that he didn't appreciate their words, but he couldn't focus on them. His mind was elsewhere all morning. Somewhere happy and calm.

Finally, the speakers finished and the name reading begun, but first a moment of silence was observed at 8:46, the exact time that the first plane hit. No flashbacks, New York thought, not anymore.

America leaned over to him afterwards and asked if he was going to stay for all of the name reading. New York hesitated in answering.

"…no. I…I'm not." He whispered, both resolute and uncertain at the same time. America's brows knitted together in confusion, and he pulled New York aside, leading him some place they could speak without being overheard. Massachusetts and Quebec followed.

"You're not staying?" New York shook his head.

"No, I was actually just thinking of leaving." He said, hoping his father wasn't, for some reason, angry at him.

"Why?"

"Because I…" New York shook his head, "It's been ten years, and I think about that day all the time. But, for me…" he looked back towards the stage, "I think it's time to move on. Some people choose to mourn by attending the ceremonies and listening to the names, but I would rather mourn in my own way." America, still a bit confused why his son chose this ceremony, of all of them, to not attend, nodded nonetheless.

"And plus," New York said suddenly, and with much more conviction, "I have a date with Jean today. I promised him we'd spend the whole day together." He reached over and intertwined his fingers with the provinces'.

America just stared at the two for a moment, but then chuckled, shaking his head. He didn't have to understand it, he supposed. "Okay then. I guess I'll see you two later." Massachusetts also bid them goodbye, and soon the couple disappeared into the streets of New York.

And the city was home again.

* * *

><p><strong>Just a Little Insight<strong>

New Jersey was lost in every sense of the word.

He awoke that morning at god knew what time, and had stumbled out of bed in a rush to get ready for something, he couldn't really remember, because he knew he was late to whatever it was he was supposed to be at. Maybe a meeting?

While combing his hair in front of a mirror in his bedroom, already dressed, the calendar on the wall behind him caught his eye.

Oh. Right. It was September. September 10th.

He stopped, his comb midway through his hair, and just stared for a moment. The calendar was backwards, since he was looking at it through the mirror, but he knew either way. He knew that the second Saturday on the calendar was circled, and in his small handwriting it said "Memorial dedication". Right.

New Jersey would have stared some more at the calendar, mysteriously captivated by it, but that dedication was scheduled to start at noon, and it was now 11:08. He really needed to get going. Tossing the comb down on his dresser, he turned and yanked his suit jacket off of his bed and grabbed his wallet and keys, stuffing those in his pocket and pulling on his jacket as he rushed to his front door.

Through some questionable driving maneuvers, New Jersey pulled into a parking lot nearby the memorial site, Liberty State Park, just five minutes before noon. One of the security guards spotted him as he approached the entrance and he was quickly ushered up to the front of the crowd, seated right in front of the stage.

Only looking back on the event did he realize he was lost during it. The state couldn't remember a word that the governor or any of the family members had said, it took him a moment to figure out why everyone was standing around him before the national anthem played, and when the crowd burst out into cheers at the end of the ceremony he found himself numbly clapping along with them. Why was he like this? He could see through his eyes, but he seemed to have no control over his body; it was just on autopilot.

The only time he considered himself to be fully awake was right before he entered the memorial. He had taken his suit jacket off—it was awfully warm—and was standing there gazing at the two tall slabs of concrete and steel in front of him when a voice startled him back to reality.

"Sir, are you alright?"

He looked over to find a woman standing next to him, her hand poised to tap him on the shoulder. A child—no more than ten—gripped onto her other hand, glancing in the direction of the memorial.

"Uh…"he said dumbly, following the child's line of sight to the two walls, "I don't really know. Or, I can't tell." He didn't know where the words came from, or why he was talking to this woman, but somehow they just came out.

"You just looked so lost. I'm sorry if I disrupted you from your thoughts, but I just wanted to make sure you were alright." She lowered her hand, giving him a soft smile, "You look so young to be here alone, you couldn't have been more than ten or eleven on that day, hm? Are you here because you lost someone?"

The state was lost on what to say. Of course this woman thought that he would have been young—he didn't look more than 21, currently. In truth, though, he wasn't even sure if his appearance had changed at all over the past decade. Perhaps his hair had gotten a bit shorter, or longer; he couldn't even remember the length it was ten years ago.

"Yeah…I mean, yes, I was younger when it happened. And I…didn't really lose anyone, no," Those words couldn't have been farther from the truth, "But my older brother…he didn't die, but he was very, very injured. He kind of…went into shock after it. It took a long time for him to return to normal."

The woman nodded. "Well, atleast he did survive, not to belittle his injuries or trauma, though. You're very lucky to still have him."

She's so right. "Yes," he said, sniffling as he wiped the first tear off his cheek, "that was a blessing."

A few moments of silence passed between them, the woman giving New Jersey a moment to collect himself while she gazed out over the water. The little boy at her side tugged on her hand.

"Mama," he began, looking up at her, "can we go see daddy's name now?" She smiled, sad and reassuring, and then nodded.

"Yes, we should go do that," She looked back to New Jersey, "Would you like to come with us...?" She left the question open ended, realizing that she didn't know the young man's name.

"Sean," and answered, "And sure, that would be nice."

"Great. I'm Sasha, and this is Michael," she motioned to her son. He looked down at the little boy, and the boy gazed right back up at him—his bright blue eyes boring that name into New Jersey's mind.

Together, they walked down the path between the two slabs, passing dozens and dozens of names of the many fallen New Jerseyans. The woman didn't stop until they were nearly at the end of the memorial, and New Jersey almost bumped into her, having lost himself again amid the walls and names. He realized, though, that she and her son were studying the left wall.

"Mama, here he is!" The boy suddenly cried out, crouching down and running his hands over one of the engravings. Sasha walked over and read the name, nodding.

"Yep. That's him." She crouched down next to her son, reaching into her purse for something. New Jersey watched as she pulled out a long piece of white paper and a green crayon with the wrapping peeled off. She handed the crayon to her son, who eagerly took it, and then looked up to the state.

"Sean, do you think you could hold the other end of this paper up?" She asked, motioning to one corner of the paper that was now pressed against the steel wall. Numbly, he nodded, and kneeled down next to the two. Balancing on his knees, Michael pressed the crayon flat against the paper and began rubbing, catching the first letter of his father's name on the paper in a brilliant green.

"It's his favorite color, green," Sasha spoke over her son's head, addressing the state, "Originally, I wanted to do it in grey or black, but Michael insisted," she chuckled as more letters began to appear on the paper. New Jersey hummed.

"I'm sure it will look very nice in color." New Jersey suddenly realized that he had never asked the woman about the person she lost—her husband, he supposed. "Is this your husband that you lost?"

She nodded. "Yes, and we had only been married about two and a half years…"she remarked, sounding distant. The state was surprised she hadn't began crying yet. "Michael was only three months old when it happened, so he never really knew his father. Still loves him, though, regardless." The thought brought another sad smile to the woman's face.

"Did he work in the towers or…?"

"Yeah, the 83rd floor of the South Tower. He was…probably about dead center of the impact zone. That gives me hope, at least, that it was quick and somewhat painless. As painless as that day could have been, I guess." She paused for a moment, "He didn't have to think about jumping out of a hundred story building, and he didn't spend the last hours of his life in horror and fear, and that gives me comfort." Finally, a tear leaked out of her eye, followed by another. Her son continued to color, the first name of his father appearing on the paper—Harry.

New Jersey nodded in agreement. He recalled the nightmares his brother described to him, and he could never decide which was the worst or best way to go. There was no answer, he supposed.

"They never found any remains, though," she sighed heavily, "But I guess that was to be expected. It's been hard, because of that, but time heals, if only slowly."

New Jersey nodded, and neither said another word as Michael continued to color in the name. After another minute the white paper was filled with brilliant green and the crayon almost completely worn down. They both released the edges of the paper and Michael took hold of it, spreading it out, and held it up to the sun, admiring his work.

As the two adults stood, New Jersey felt an odd feeling crawling up his spine.

"Well it was, uh, nice meeting you," he nodded towards Sasha, and she smiled at him, "And I'm-I'm sorry for your l-loss." Someone else was controlling him again, because his voice grew weaker and he hastily turned and disappeared into the crowd, not even leaving the woman and her son time to say goodbye to him.

* * *

><p>When New Jersey finally got through the thick crowd, he ran. He stopped by his car momentarily to chuck his suit jacket and tie in the passenger's seat, but afterwards he only continued running—away from the memorial and deeper into the park.<p>

Eventually, due to how warm the day was, he stopped running, but continued to walk briskly, his fists clenched into tight balls by his sides. He wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to—

He was just so frustrated. Why? New York, New York, New York. It was all about New York. The city, the state, the person—it didn't matter. It was always and all about New York. And he loved his brother, he really did, but it was happening again. He was in his brother's shadow again, like always.

New York lost the most citizens in the attacks, and of course he lost several buildings—including the two iconic Twin Towers. He understood that his brother lost more than anyone, and that the other state had sustained the worst injuries out of everyone, but that didn't make him more important than anyone else. New Jersey lost people—many, many people, the second largest amount—but did anyone reach out to him in the way that they reached out to New York? No, of course not. New York got the money, and New York got the volunteers, and New York got the sympathy, and New York got the love.

Where was his family for him?

But he felt absolutely horrible and guilty for every thought that ran through his head. That day was so tragic, and his brother could have lost much more than he did, but just because New Jersey lost less didn't mean that he didn't hurt, too.

But the country had decided. New York was more important, New Jersey was just one of the many casualties. In his brother's shadow for everything. Again. Like always.

He kept walking and walking and walking, and somewhere around 5:30 his stomach was growling angrily at him. He stopped at a small diner and ordered some sandwich and a coke, and ate with thoughts still racing through his head. As he walked back through the large park the sun was setting, and by the time he returned to the memorial all the families and visitors were long gone. His car was the only one that remained in the parking lot nearby.

The sun was reflecting brilliantly off the steel walls of the memorial, but New Jersey didn't walk through them again. Instead, he walked around them, up to the water, and leaned his forearms against the rail, gazing across the water to the New York skyline.

New Jersey had no idea how long he stayed there, just looking, but before he knew it the sky was getting darker and darker, and a flash of light across the bay caught his eye.

One lone, bluish beam streaked through the sky, and then another one joined it, and then another. Soon another few beams shot up a little ways away from the first clump, and in less than a minute they were all lit up.

"The Tribute in Light…" New Jersey whispered to himself, letting out a hoarse chuckle. Of course. Tomorrow was the 10th anniversary of September 11th, and it was the last time the Tribute in Light would run. Every passing minute turned the sky darker, and when the state looked up again, the blue lights could be seen rising up through the night sky for what seemed like miles.

New Jersey gave one last look at the ghostly towers, lowered his head into his hands, and cried. After ten years, ten years of running and thinking his loss insignificant to his brother's, New Jersey cried. And cried.

* * *

><p>This is a sequel to my fic, New York, Oh New York, which is about the actual event of 911. This fic focuses on the 10th anniversary, obviously. This is actually 2 stories I guess? But they're both so connected that I wanted to put them both in the same submission. It wouldn't be right to separate them. New York's is **We're Coming Home Again** and New Jersey's is **Just a Little Insight.**

A little note...the dedication of NJ's memorial was Saturday, not Sunday, probably to allow the families from NJ to go to both ceremonies. New Jersey himself, however, probably didn't want to go after his rough day. And yes the first story takes place after the second.

I wrote this whole thing in one afternoon, so sorry for any errors. Its not proofread/edited very much...

The memorials featured in this are-

The National 9/11 Memorial in New York City, 'Reflecting Absence'.

A memorial in Jersey City for all the New Jerseyans lost that day,'Empty Sky'.

And a literal 'Tribute in Light' in New York City that recreates the image of the towers using huge searchlights.

Just as a disclaimer, the humans in the story weren't based off anyone real. The little boy, Michael, was only there to remind New Jersey of his brother.


End file.
